


Tide Pool

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Enough can be way too much.





	Tide Pool

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Story contains a smatter of het stuff--but among OC's only ;^)   


* * *

"Teddy, quit!" Nell hunched her shoulders, playfully shrugging caressing hands away as she attempted to continue rearranging the books. "You're not helping." 

"Who says I want to help?" His warm breath teased her ear. 

Laughing, she flopped her handful of books over on their sides, and twisted around on her rear. "You mutt! Stop it." Grabbing his hands, she leaned forward and kissed him hard, then pushed him away. "Don't you have to get back?" 

"Lunch." 

"It was lunch an hour ago. Now it's afternoon, and good little gallery managers are supposed to be back on the job." 

He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Seven years and the shine's off the apple. No more nookie among the dusty, musty shelves for poor old Teddy." 

She laughed outright at the sorrowful droop of his bearded face. Tugging firmly on his long braid, she gave him another kiss. "Your apple's got lots of polish, love. But I really need to make room for those new books before Daniel wanders out ready to shelve them. And a bit less of the 'dusty, musty,' if you please!" 

"You could take the afternoon if you wanted. I can manage." The soft voice from behind the counter carried no censure. 

Nell grabbed Teddy's shoulders to lever herself to her feet. "No, Daniel. It'll be a lot easier with both of us. Besides..." She grinned down into Teddy's hopeful face. "... he probably has twenty wistful tourists just dying to view the lovely art on his walls." 

He grimaced. "I don't have twenty tourists, wistful or otherwise, most _weeks_ , let alone on Tuesday afternoons." 

She stroked his head. "Some day they'll discover you, Babe. Be brave." 

His thin mouth sagged in mournful rejection, then twitched upward into a grin. "But if they did, I'd have to, like, work, wouldn't I? All the time." 

She laughed again, then turned to her business partner for support. "What do you think, Daniel. Should I kick him out to find his place in the world?" 

For a moment, a ghost of pain swept over the older man's face. Then he shook his head and looked away. "That pursuit is pretty much... overrated. I think you should just let him be happy doing what he wants to do." 

Nell exchanged a glance with her lover, then turned back to gaze at the man on the other side of the counter. Sobered, she pulled Teddy to his feet and gave him a tight hug. 

"Scoot, mutt," she whispered softly. 

He hugged back, then nodded and slipped to the front of the store and out onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. 

Nell moved slowly over to the counter, dragged one of the tall coffee-bar stools down close to the register and plopped herself. Stilling her mind, she sat gazing at her much-loved, but nearly completely mysterious business partner. Two years, and she still knew almost nothing about him, other than that he was gorgeous, sweet, gentle and terrifyingly bright. And that he'd been at loose ends, with a chunk of money to invest, at a time when she'd been desperate. 

He'd walked into her quirky little bookstore, just another tourist among the many who wandered through their little ocean-side town. He'd picked up on her despair, and before she knew it she was confessing her tale of woe over tear-augmented coffee--beloved business, lousy business skills, ten days short of losing that business. By the time she realized what she was doing, he'd started thinking. And as she now knew, thinking turned him into a kind of irresistible force. Six days later, they'd signed the final papers, and she'd had a partner. 

He'd turned out to be worth several times his weight. With what she'd learned was characteristic obsession, he'd educated himself on the particulars of running a business, and two years later they were still running in the black. He kept meticulously perfect records, and controlled the flow of money with a gentle, firm hand. She found herself financially comfortable for pretty much the first time in her life. 

But she still knew nothing about who he'd been before he'd drifted into Seaside and settled. Except, of course, that he'd passed every financial check with flying colors. She had no regrets about her desperate grab for salvation. 

"Daniel?" 

He kept his gaze, and apparently his attention, firmly fixed on the boxes he was unpacking and sorting onto the counter. 

"So... You going to tell me about finding your place in the world?" 

He continued to shift books for a few moments, then looked up--but not quite at her--and handed her copies of the computerized lists for the new orders. "Here's what just came in. You can pay for the Prometheus by starting with the Harlequin." 

Absently accepting the pages, then dropping them back onto the surface of the counter, she cocked her head and stared purposefully at him. 

He continued to sort, eyes carefully averted. Slowly, color flooded his cheeks, and his full lower lip crept between his teeth. 

"Daniel..." 

Finally meeting her eyes, he grimaced slightly. "Nell, I... Let's just say that sometimes things don't work out the way the Great American Dream says they're supposed to, all right?" 

She leaned against the counter, propping her chin on folded arms. "And they didn't for you." It wasn't a question. 

His movement stilled, and his lips tightened. "I don't think they do for most people, Nell. If they did, you would have had all the money you needed to run your store, and Teddy could sit in a sunny loft and just paint, without having to try to convince people that there's a difference between what he does and a painting of Elvis on black velvet." 

"And you?" 

He tilted his head back and stared at the balcony rail above the desk. "Me. I... I guess I'd be exploring the galaxy, discovering and studying new cultures." 

She laughed. "Right. You and Buck Rogers." 

His gaze dropped to the books in front of him, but she didn't think he was seeing the muted colors of their covers. Unmistakable pain clouded his blue eyes. "Yeah," he whispered. "Me and Buck Rogers." 

Her humor died. "What a damned puzzle you are, Mr. Jackson." 

He ducked his head, lips twitching into a humorless smile. "Leave 'em wondering, Nell. Always leave 'em wondering." 

She shook her head and capitulated. 

"Okay, this time you win, my friend," she said as she gathered up her lists. "But I'm a very determined woman." 

His smile sweetened, but somehow she knew it wasn't for her. He stared softly into space, then laughed slightly. "I have it on good authority that I'm the most stubborn man on the planet. You don't scare me." 

She laughed again, stood up straight and propelled herself firmly away from the enigma behind the cash register and toward the shelves. She had to suffer mucking around in the bodice rippers before she was allowed to wallow in the provocative, brain-stimulating non-fiction published by Prometheus Press. So she'd better get her butt in gear.

* * *

Daniel checked to make sure the lock was securely engaged, waved goodbye to Nell, and drifted across Beach and toward Broadway, nodding and smiling at the other shopkeepers as they locked up and headed for home. The late evening sky clung to the glow of the summer sun, edging the old buildings and facades with orange-gold. 

This was a good place. A place where he could be content. 

He'd given up on happy. Too many tries; too many misses. And there were emotional pitfalls in the most unexpected places. 

Firmly, he directed his mind away from pointless self-pity. His sandaled feet carried him up Broadway to the boardwalk, and into his favorite sand-side coffee shop. He settled at his usual table, out on the darkening patio. 

"Evening, Daniel. Nice night." 

He smiled at Katy as she set his coffee on the tiny table. He pulled the latest edition of Archaeology Today out of his bag and settled for his evening ritual, reading by the light that seeped from the windows of the cafe, sipping Katy's excellent coffee, and watching the die-hards eke the last of the summer sun from the beach. As the sky gradually lost its final golden glow, he felt the warmth of peace sweep through him. He lowered the magazine to the table-top, gazed into the deepening indigo horizon, and finally allowed himself to contemplate walking on the surfaces of strange planets. Him and Buck Rogers.

* * *

"Mmmm. Told ya there was plenty of polish left..." 

The sweaty body draped over hers shook with chuckles. "That was a pretty good effort, wasn't it?" 

She swatted his shaggy head, then ran her fingers contentedly through the long, soft strands of his unbound hair. The fact that her own hair was Dorothy-Hammill-short gave their friends unending fuel for amusement. She figured Teddy'd be sitting on his by Christmas. 

"So..." he nestled closer, resting his head on the cushion of her breast. "You get our Daniel figured out today?" 

"Nope. Damn, Teddy. He's so sad. Always. I don't think I've ever seen him smile and really mean it. But I can't get him to talk." 

He lifted his head, moving his hand from her hip to her cheek, stroking tenderly. "Maybe you should leave it, Babe. He's a pretty private guy. And he's your partner, not your brother. He doesn't owe you the story of his life." 

She grumbled softly, squinching her mouth into a moue of discontent. "But... it's just not fair. He's a doll. He's beautiful, smart, great personality, if a bit retiring... There's no way he should be alone. Or so unhappy." 

Teddy sat up, hair cascading over his thin shoulders. "Nell, leave it. If he wants to talk, he will. If he wants companionship... well, surely it hasn't escaped you that he could have his pick. Every unattached woman in town, and half the married ones, would gladly trail along in his wake. And that's not even considering the guys." 

"Guys?" Speculative interest brightened her hazel eyes. "Maybe that's..." 

Teddy's hand clapped down over her mouth. "Leave it, love. Leave him alone. If he wants company, he'll find it." 

Her brows beetled up at him, then relaxed. He lifted his hand cautiously, and was rewarded by a sloppy lick across his palm. 

"Gotcha, boss. Leave him alone. You, however..." 

He grinned and lowered himself gently onto her softly plump body. "Ah, you want to take another swipe at that polish?"

* * *

Nell was happily shelving the last of the new books from Prometheus, spending leisurely minutes reading the jacket notes and tables of contents. She loved these books. Daniel was again behind the counter, finalizing the entry of all the new stock into their database. He'd spent most of the morning buried in his own favorite intake--a shipment of old, eclectic books fated for the shelves of used books up in the balcony. One of his contributions had been a great increase in the quality of their acquisitions for the balcony. He seemed to have a real knack for finding old books that had no relationship to junk. 

She glanced up and smiled at another of his contributions. He'd created wonderful placards to identify the topics of various sections of their main stock. The delicate water-colored designs and symbols meant nothing to her, other than that it was obvious that they represented different ethnic designs and patterns. But Daniel was very meticulous about each one; they were precisely drawn and lovingly painted. And they added a classy touch to what she had to admit had once been a pretty boring place. 

The coffee bar was his idea as well. She figured that was because he was constitutionally incapable of going an entire business day without periodic caffeine fixes. And she'd recently softened him up to the idea of murals. And mugs painted with his pretty symbols. They should clean up on those. She had other projects cooking for him that she hadn't mentioned yet. He had to be eased into these things. 

The hollow, D-modal ring of the tubular wind chime on the door brought her to her feet. First customer in more than an hour. They'd had a little flock of tourists flutter through just after ten--sold several books, including a few of those dreadful bodice rippers. But it had been quiet through the lunch hour. 

Oh, my. She felt her brows rise at sight of the tall man who stood just inside the door. A fox if she'd ever seen one. His age was a bit indeterminate--tousled, silverish hair arguing age against the youth of a rangy, athletic body. A narrow face with handsome features partially obscured by dark sunglasses. Faded, slightly frayed blue jeans, painted onto long, shapely legs, and topped by a dark T-shirt. And all very nicely wrapped in a softly worn brown leather jacket. 

He pulled the sunglasses off, and she could see that his gaze was fixed on the back of the shop. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he slowly walked across the floor, ignoring the shelves of books that surrounded him. 

"Sir? Can I help you?" 

His intent face didn't even twitch. 

"Were you looking for something in particular?" 

Still no indication that he even realized she was there. He just kept walking toward the register counter. She could see Daniel's back as he bent over the small work-table, poking through one of the boxes of old books. If he'd heard the chimes, he'd apparently assumed that she would deal with whoever had entered the shop. 

She moved into the center aisle, right into the fox's path, 

"Sir?" 

Without diverting his gaze, he curved around her and headed for the open end of the counter. 

"Sir! I'm sorry, but customers aren't allowed behind the counter!" 

But he was. Behind the counter, that is. He'd finally stopped, and was gazing at Daniel's back like Henry Jones, Sr., face to face with the Holy Grail. 

"Danny?" 

Danny? 

Daniel's body jerked, and he spun around, straightening up to stare, wide-eyed and stunned, at the stranger. 

They stood motionless for a protracted moment. Then the man moved again. Closer to Daniel. 

Nell heard a squeak of protest. From her, she was pretty sure. But for some reason her feet weren't willing to carry her close enough to rescue Daniel from an obviously distressing situation. She could see him trembling from her position ten feet away. 

Daniel's body was trapped against the table behind him; he had nowhere to escape. The other man advanced into his space, gaze locked on Daniel's. Slowly, his hands rose and slipped around Daniel's waist, tightening to pull the shaking body close. 

"Oh, Danny," he breathed softly, sorrowfully, just before he tenderly slid his hands up the other man's body to cradle ashen cheeks, closed the final distance and gently fitted his lips over Daniel's. 

Her partner's blue eyes flew wide as his body jerked in shock. For a moment he struggled, then his eyelids slid shut, his hands drifted around the tall man's waist, and he yielded. The fox's lips lifted just long enough for her to hear Daniel's breathy whisper. 

"Jack." 

Oh, my. Nell felt her own jaw drop in astonishment, her cheeks warming with an appreciative flush. 

"Buck Rogers, I presume," she whispered.

* * *

The mug was cool between his fingers, the coffee long since having lost its heat to the air. But somehow he couldn't quite find the moxy to stand up, cross the street and meet his fate inside that small bookstore. 

'Parchment.' The name on the faade teased him. 'Come on in, Jack O'Neill. Read your destiny...' 

He could hardly believe it. After all this time, all his effort, to find the answer in such a serendipitous way. Casual words, an overheard conversation between cafeteria workers, one just returned from a holiday spent on the beaches of Oregon. 

<<"Man looked just like Doctor Jackson! I swear...">>

Not teaching, not pottering away in the deserts of Egypt, not fighting his battles with the stuffy academics who'd rejected his insights nearly ten years ago. Brilliant, passionate Daniel... keeping shop in a beachside tourist town. 

So here Jack was, sitting in a caf in Seaside, Oregon, hoping for a glimpse. Just a little sighting, he told himself. Just one. 

But so far, no sign. And he'd been here since eleven--nearly two hours now. 

Abruptly, he rose and tossed a couple of bills onto the table. He had to know. 

He crossed the street, heedless of the honking and impolite language. His gaze was locked on that teasing door. Nothing else existed but what waited for him on the other side of that barrier. 

Firmly, he shoved the door open and stepped into the cool dimness of the bookstore. Eerie, haunting chimes rang through the air as he released the handle and the door swung shut. 

There. Showing only the curve of a bent back. But he'd know that body anywhere, in any fraction of display. 

Oh, God. Daniel. His throat tightened with some mixture of anger, wanting and sheer joy. Daniel. 

He was peripherally aware of the charm of the shop. Warm, dark wood bookcases, decorated with delicately etched and painted placards. Eclectic and fascinating artwork here and there on warm, cream walls. Tastefully arranged book displays tucked between the ends of cases. He even vaguely realized that someone was trying to get his attention. 

But he had none to spare. Every sense he had was focused on that bowed spine. 

He hardly noticed his passage through the store. Just that he was finally close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Daniel's body. 

"Danny?" 

Was that his voice? High and tight, raspy and desperate. 

And then he was holding him, breathing in his astonishment and shock, caressing protesting lips with his own. A moment of resistance, then cooperation, and the sense of a tiny reflection of his own hunger.

* * *

Mesmerized, he followed Daniel's back across the street, between shops, to the boardwalk and beyond. Sand under his feet, sun kissing his uncovered head. 

Daniel paused to pull the sandals off his feet, and Jack quickly jerked the loafers from his own feet, pulling his socks off and stuffing them into his pockets. And again, he followed in Daniel's silent wake. 

Weaving around the people enjoying the sandy beach, they headed for water's edge. Daniel finally stopped, feet lapped by the foamy surf, eyes squinting in the sun, focused out across the ocean. 

Sliding in beside him, Jack gazed at Daniel's face, drinking in the distant expression, the sad droop of his full mouth. He looked... wonderful. Regretfully, Jack acknowledged that, in many ways, Daniel looked far better than the last time he'd seen him. Gone was the unremitting tension, the frustration that had become so habitual for the archaeologist. Aside from the immediate upset of Jack's intrusion, he looked relaxed. And young. Maybe it was the long, sun-bleached hair, neatly confined by a simple metal clip. Maybe it was the loss of that anxiety that had been such a constant part of his life. Or... 

"Glasses." 

Daniel turned to face him, eyebrow arching in a gesture so familiar it made Jack want to laugh with joy. He gestured vaguely toward Daniel's face. 

"Oh. I forgot." Daniel smiled slightly and shrugged, turning back toward the sea. "Contacts. I only wear the glasses when my eyes get tired." 

"Uh... Why didn't you ever... I mean, before..." Damn. What were they doing talking about glasses, fergodsake? 

Another shrug. "Inertia. Lack of motivation. Besides, contacts could have been a bit risky when we were... when we..." 

"Yeah. Got it." Jack took a deep breath. "Uh... Daniel..." 

"Hmm?" 

"You gonna tell me why?" 

Daniel's chin ducked into his chest, his eyes squeezing shut. 

"I mean, you just... it was..." Jack waved his hand in tongue-tied frustration. "You planned it so well." 

Daniel sighed and moved up the beach, dragging his feet through the water's resistance. Then he angled away from the water, toward a tangled pile of driftwood logs. 

Jack again followed, then lowered himself onto the wind-blasted log beside the other man. He ran his hand over the satin-smooth, whitened wood, marveling for a moment at the power of water and wind. 

"Y'know, somehow I've never been in this part of the country. This beach... all that sand. Kinda surprising." 

Daniel's eyes flickered his way briefly, a tiny smile curving his lips. "Wonderful, isn't it. Did you see the dunes?" 

Jack grinned. "Oh, yeah. Those dune buggies look like a hoot." 

"Just fasten your belt. They dive those things straight down the dunes; it's a wild ride." 

"Just my style." 

"Yeah." Daniel's gaze dropped to his jean-clad knees. "I had to do it, Jack." 

"Why, Daniel? You couldn't talk to me about it?" 

Sun-streaked hair fluttered as Daniel shook his head. "Y...you were part of the p...problem, Jack." 

Jack felt a hot spear of distress shoot down his spine. Part of the problem. 

"Daniel... I... we were friends." 

Daniel's head shook again. "Jack... I was tired. I _am_... so tired." 

"A vacation wouldn't have helped?" 

"With what? Two weeks away, then back to the same things." 

"Things? What things? Please, Danny. Talk to me, here." 

Blue eyes refocused on the distant watery horizon. "How long, Jack. How long since we formed an alliance just to... make friends? How long since we invested time and energy into a mission whose purpose was the excavation and preservation of something precious, something with no military value, no monetary value... just for the sake of the joy and the knowledge?" 

"Dammit, Daniel. You knew the imperatives." 

The soft mouth twisted in bitter rejection. "Oh, yeah. I had those damned mission imperatives recited to me enough times." For a moment, he stared at the gulls fighting noisily over some tidbit tossed from a tourist's boat. Then he whispered, "I never wanted to be a soldier, Jack." 

Another pang tightened Jack's chest. "I know, Danny. But we just had no idea when we stepped through that Gate the first time..." 

Daniel's teeth clamped down on his lower lip, and he turned his face away. For the first time since they'd left the little bookstore, Jack touched him, gently rubbing his palm over a tense shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Daniel. But what we found out there just kind of overwhelmed us. Then..." 

"Then the real military started to get interested, right? The Pentagon. The NID." 

"They are _not_ the 'real' military, Daniel!" 

"Aren't they? When it came down to it, Jack, who was making the big decisions?" He turned to spear Jack with angry blue eyes. "Who was responsible for setting that damned mission imperative? Who made a duplicitous, underhanded treaty with the Russians--a treaty no one in our military or government had any intention of keeping? Who was arrogant enough to believe that we could style ourselves as representing all of Earth? Who decided that the _scientific_ goals--the exploration, the discovery--weren't worth our time any more?" He turned back to the gulls. "Who, Jack? Because whoever they are, they're the real military, no matter what you pretend to think. And I just couldn't take it any more." 

"So, you could have stayed on Earth. Just done the archaeology stuff." 

"You just don't get it, do you? I... I really didn't like Daniel Jackson any more. I'd compromised my principles so thoroughly that I could hardly remember what they were any more." His breath caught suspiciously. "And I just couldn't listen to it any more. Couldn't bear any more, 'See if you can get weapons technology out of them.' 'You know what our primary task is, Dr. Jackson.' 'They have nothing we want, time to go.' 'We can't spare the money or the personnel, Dr. Jackson.'" He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the powerful emotion that shook his body. "Couldn't stand, one more time... 'Shut up, Daniel.'" 

Jack's hands clenched so hard he was sure his nails drew blood. "Oh, Daniel. God, I'm so sorry..." 

Daniel's head was shaking wearily back and forth. "Jack, it was getting to you the same way it was getting to me. God, what irony. It was the Gate--those first wonderful years--that created our friendship. Who could have expected it? But it was the Gate that ruined us as well." 

Jack's fist pounded his thigh. "No. We aren't ruined. Just... kind of sidetracked. We can't be ruined. I won't allow it." 

Daniel's ghost of a laugh held little humor. "You won't allow it? I think it's too late, Jack. Things just went too far." He paused, again biting his lip. "I won't go back. Never." 

Jack contemplated the other man for a long moment, chewing on his own lip. "So... why here? Why keeping shop for the tourist trade? From what I've discovered, the folks around here don't even know you're _Doctor_ Jackson." 

Daniel's bitter laugh cut deep. "It was... a bit disconcerting, you know. To have finally taken the big step and... escaped. Then to find that I didn't have anywhere to go." 

"What about teaching, digging in the dirt..." 

Daniel's head was shaking. "How, Jack? How could I go back to teaching, or any part of my field? How could I live with the lies I'd have to tell, with knowing that every professional in my field was operating under a complete misunderstanding of the meaning of their discoveries? How could I have corrupted all those fine young minds with a whole library of information that I _knew_ was nonsense? And I could have set them straight--always assuming that they'd listen. Except that I'd promised that I never would." He shook his head, some of the despair he must have felt staining his features. "Until they go public with the Stargate, I can never work as an archaeologist again. And we both know there's no way they're going to tell the truth. Certainly not in my lifetime. The Stargate program made my career... and then destroyed it. That was... a little hard to take." 

"Damn," Jack whispered. 

"Yeah. Damn. The only way for me to do what I spent my life preparing for would be to... go back. And I just *won't* do it." 

Jack thought deeply for a long moment, then shook himself and leaned back against the pile of logs. "Well... actually I don't really have a problem with that." 

He'd finally really surprised the younger man. Disconcerted blue eyes stared at him over a gaping mouth. "Wh...what?" 

Jack recognized the edge of hysteria in his laugh. "Oh, God, Daniel. What I would have given to hear that gormless stutter these last three years." He reached over and brushed the backs of his fingers down Daniel's cheek. "I don't have a problem with you not going back, because I'm not going back, either. Resigned. Retired. Again." 

"R... resigned?" Daniel's voice was small, ridiculously hopeful. 

"Yup." Jack looked down at his bare toes. "Carter has SG-1; Teal'c's doing Bra'tac's thing on Chulak. Wasn't much fun any more." 

Daniel's hand lightly brushed Jack's thigh. "Hadn't been any fun for a long time, Jack." 

Jack met his eyes, then nodded. "So, Daniel. Got an opening for an assistant shop-keeper?" 

For a moment, Daniel stared at him in disbelief. Then a brilliant smile transformed his face, and his healthy laughter rang across the beach. "Not if he wants to be paid. We're operating in the black... just. But... how fast do you think you could catch on to that dune buggy thing?" 

"You mean, charging over those dunes scaring the bejeezus out of a bunch of tourists?" Jack felt a thrill of childish delight. Damn, what a way to spend his retirement! 

Demurely dropping his eyes, Daniel nodded. "Heard Mike Davis was looking for a new driver." 

Jack laughed. "Shit! Helluva a way to make a living!" 

"Not sure how much of a living you can make at it, but for you..." 

"Oh, yeah. And I have to tell you, Danny..." He reached across to brush the long fringe out of Daniel's eyes. "I could afford to spend the rest of my life as your unpaid shop clerk. Got a pretty nice nest egg, what with selling the house and all." 

"You... you sold your house? But..." Daniel shook his head. "What if..." 

"Daniel, there was no way I was going to let go of you again. If you don't want me, I'll just spend every day for the rest of my life at that caf across the street from 'Parchment,' just to get a look twice a day." He contemplated the blushing face for a moment, then took his courage firmly in hand. "About living space..." 

Daniel was contemplating his bare toes as they tunneled industriously through the soft sand. 

"Not much permanent here... this is a tourist town." He drew a deep breath. "Jack... about that... that thing in the store..." 

"Ah... yeah. Sorry, I just sort of... lost it. Afraid that's something that's been tormenting my brain for a long time. Since before..." 

"Before? Um..." Daniel's cheeks were flaming now. His toes smoothed out the grooves they'd created and started on a new set. "C...can't say as I'd ever thought in that direction before." 

Jack's heart chilled. Sadly, he contemplated those lovely, tunneling toes. "Never, huh?" 

"Um... no." Slowly, Daniel lifted his head and turned to meet Jack's eyes. "Ah... I'm kinda afraid I've been thinking a _lot_ about it for the last half hour, though." 

Jack felt a slow grin stretch his lips. "A lot? Good thoughts." 

Another dazzling smile brightened Daniel's face. "Oh, yeah. Um... I've got a place... Not very big, but decent. We'd..." His nose wrinkled in mischief--an expression Jack couldn't remember having seen since the earliest days of SG-1. "We'd have to... share the b...bed." 

"Yes!" Jack's fist pumped, then joined his other hand to grab Daniel's sun-warmed body. "Sounds _terrific_ to me!" 

Firm hands on his chest restrained him. "Jack... Jack! Slow down. I'm not sure..." 

Jack gentled his hold, staring into that confused, beloved face. "I can go slow, Daniel. And damn, can I cuddle. Lots of cuddling, then we'll see what develops, okay?" 

Daniel's hands slid around Jack's body, his head dropping to rest on his shoulder. "Oh, yes. I can do that," he whispered.

* * *

The four o'clock closing of the Boardwalk Gallery generally meant that Teddy spent the last few hours of the day and early evening in the shop, helping and interfering with Nell's work. 

Today, they'd failed to get a single thing accomplished. They'd spent two hours excitedly tearing apart The Event of the afternoon. 

"... and he _kissed_ him! On the lips!" Nell took a big gulp of her coffee. "And Daniel let him. And they didn't say a word. Just looked at each other for about two hours, then headed out the door. They haven't been back since." 

Teddy shook his head. "Holy shit. Well, we always knew he had to have _some_ kind of past. This is just a bit... uninformative." 

"Man, that guy was slick--really gorgeous, in a mature sort of way." 

Teddy mocked a frown. "Do I have to worry about you wandering from the orchard, little worm?" 

She giggled and kissed him. "If I didn't stray after Daniel, Mister Hot Fox isn't going to tempt me. Besides, they're too short and... er..." 

His eyebrows arched. "Buff?" 

"I wasn't going to mention it." She bit the sharp tip of his nose. "Where do you suppose they are?" 

"Kinda pointless to speculate, babe. I'm sure Daniel will tell us what's going on. Eventually," 

"Or not. He hasn't told us anything so far." She pursed her lips, thinking. "Maybe if I..." 

The chime of the door intruded. They twisted around, gaping as their errant friend stepped through the door, followed by Mister Hot Fox himself. Daniel's lips curved up in amusement at their frustrated, curious expressions. 

"Nell, Teddy, I..." He paused, teeth closing on his lower lip. Then the smile grew. "This is Jack. He... he's going to be staying." 

And she finally saw the smile she'd waited for, illuminating a face unreservedly and enchantingly happy.


End file.
